


There's Always a First

by Defira



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/F, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-14 07:52:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1258642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Defira/pseuds/Defira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nat Shepard has never really had a lot of things go her way- she's just made do with whatever life throws in her direction. </p>
<p>Life has thrown her Miranda Lawson.</p>
<p>If she could stop tripping over her tongue for two minutes, she might actually be able to work it in her favour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's Always a First

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dabunnyvs](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=dabunnyvs).



It was her first Valentine’s Day since she’d died. 

Actually, no, that was inaccurate- it was the third Valentine’s Day since she’d died, but the first since she’d miraculously woken up again, snatched away from death by the woman whose very existence had grown to occupy a large space in her head and her heart. 

Two times Valentine’s Day had passed her by, her heart as still and silent as a stone, until Miranda Lawson had reached into her chest and breathed warmth back into her cold veins and her heart had beat again. She had reached beyond death and dragged her back, her soul safe and secure in her grasp.

And now it was Valentine’s Day again, and this time she had life in her- all thanks to Miranda.

Nat Shepard counted it as an accomplishment that she’d made it as far as the elevator, given that she’d been pacing her quarters all evening trying to work up the nerve to head downstairs to speak to her 2IC. Although she hadn’t quite made it as far as pressing the button to summon the lift- so far she was just standing and staring at the metal doors, waiting for a burst of courage to appear and propel her forward. 

There was a rolling sensation in her stomach that left her feeling queasy, and her hands were stupidly sweaty as she wiped her palms on her pants. “Chin up, Nat,” she muttered under her breath. She stabbed the button for the lift before she could regret the decision. “It won’t be that bad.”

Having said that, of course, she couldn’t bring herself to step into the lift the first time it arrived. Instead she retreated rapidly, pacing back across the cabin and ignoring the open doors, cursing herself under her breath at her cowardice when she heard it depart. It took her another five minutes to build up the courage to try again. 

The elevator ride, when she finally made it inside, seemed to take an eternity. She clung desperately to the handrail, her grip so tight that her knuckles paled; although a magnificent improvement on the ponderous excuse for a lift, she still felt her stomach lurch about uncomfortably, the movement of the lift still enough to leave her feeling nauseous. 

When it pinged open on the crew deck, she smiled weakly at the chorus of ‘ _hey commander_ ’ thrown her way, nodding in greeting and trying to remember that she _was_ their commander, a woman to be respected and feared. Just because she currently felt about as threatening as a bowl of jelly didn’t mean that she had to let them know that. 

So she straightened her shoulders and gritted her teeth and made sure to walk tall; this was her ship, and her domain. Here, of all places, she could feel content with herself and her position.

That of course didn’t mean a thing to her jelly legs as she approached Miranda’s door and rapped quickly, entering before she gave up and fled with her tail between her legs. 

The room was familiar, as always- they’d taken the original blueprints for the Normandy and expanded on them, and Miranda’s current quarters bore a striking resemblance in layout to her quarters as captain two years ago. The intriguing scent of Miranda’s perfume, however, was new, and Nat had to fight herself not to stop and inhale noisily. 

Miranda was at her desk and smiled warmly, if somewhat absently, her gaze flicking back to the screen in front of her almost immediately. “Shepard,” she said, a small frown of concentration marring her otherwise perfect face. “What can I do for you?”

Nat swallowed down the lump of fear wedged in her throat, her hand self consciously going to her neck out of a lifetime of habit. “I wondered if you had a moment to talk,” she said, voice raspy; she winced, ashamed at the way it had dipped down for a moment.

Miranda seemed not to notice. “Of course, Shepard,” she said, “I always have time for you. Just give me a moment.”

“Not a problem, I apologise for interrupting at all.”

Miranda shook her head absently. “You’re never an interruption. I’ll be done in just...” She trailed off, fingers flying over the digital display. She hit a key emphatically and then leaned back, a smile on her face. “And done. What can I do for you?”

Nat’s hand, still on her throat, drifted around the curve of her neck to tug nervously on her ponytail. “I was- do you, um, mind if we sit down? Just... a little more privacy than just chatting by the door.”

“Of course, Shepard,” Miranda said, climbing to her feet and gesturing for Nat to follow her further into her quarters. “Can I get you anything to drink? Is something the matter?”

“No, nothing’s the matter, it’s just...” Nat plunked down into the seat Miranda offered her, feeling utterly graceless. She laughed nervously, twisting her fingers together in her lap. “Wow, this is a lot harder than I was anticipating.”

Miranda eased into the chair opposite, just as poised and elegant as she’d come to expect from her; she envied her that grace, the way her movements seemed so precise and yet so effortless. “Take your time, Shepard,” she said, her head tilted ever so slightly. It was an odd habit of hers that Nat had picked up on, as if she was constantly considering and assessing everything and everyone. “I don’t have much on my plate at the moment, so I’ve got the time to talk.”

“Okay, well...” She stared at her fingers, rather than looking at Miranda; she didn’t want her to see the shrinking uncertainty in her eyes. “I... had a question.”

“Ask away.”

“An important question.”

She heard the small puff of breath, a small laugh, and glanced up to find a crooked smile gracing her lips. “I’d gathered as much,” she said kindly, and Nat was immensely grateful that she was sitting in that moment. Her smile was enough to turn even a salarian’s head. “Would you rather we talked about something else to start with? Something less nerve wracking?”

“No, I can- I can do this,” Nat said, feeling distinctly lightheaded. “Actually, a drink might be nice after all.”

“Of course,” Miranda said, climbing to her feet again. “Anything in parti-”

“Just water is fine.” She silently cursed herself for a fool while Miranda fetched her a glass, accepting it gratefully and trying not to choke when she downed it too fast. She set the glass back down on the side table so she wouldn’t fiddle with it, and then faced Miranda as she once again took the seat opposite. 

She took a deep breath. It was now or never.

“How did you...” She trailed off, her tongue a thousand times too big for her mouth, and blushed awkwardly as Miranda waited patiently for her to continue. Eventually she just accepted that the words weren’t going to come to her and just gestured vaguely at her own body. “ _This_ ,” she said weakly, as if that explained it.

Miranda raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow at her. “How did I remake you?” she asked. “You know I have nothing but the greatest respect for your intelligence, Shepard, but I doubt that you could grasp the specifics of the technology and procedures I used to revitalise and rebuild dead and dying tissue. Not to mention the intricate work required in kickstarting higher brain funct-”

“I meant _me_ ,” she said, cheeks hot and eyes burning. She blinked rapidly, determined not to cry. “How did... how did you know?”

Understanding dawned in Miranda’s eyes, and she paused for a long moment before answering. “It wasn’t precisely a secret, Shepard,” she said carefully. “Cerberus were- and are- very extensive when it comes to researching... _projects_ , shall we say. It was within our power and abilities to assist you, and it was important to me that we minimized your trauma after your death. It had the potential to go badly, of course, like everything else during your revival, but I saw it as a key aspect to your recovery.”

Nat felt a niggle of uncertainty worm its way into her gut. “So... I don’t understand, you only did it to make me happier with Cerberus?” The thought was insidious, and poisonous, and it wasn’t helping her attempts not to cry. 

Miranda’s face paled. “ _No_ , Shepard- Nat, please, I-” She composed herself with effort, pushing back an errant lock of her fringe and folding her hands in her lap. “I apologise, that came across rather coldly. It was important to _me_ , not just Cerberus, because... well, obviously I can’t understand your particular circumstances, but I can empathize with what it’s like to feel trapped by your own body and suffocated by the expectations placed upon it.”

Nat blinked at her, the words slowly sinking in.

“Obviously my circumstances are quite different, and I’m not suggesting that my experience is in any way like the frustrations you must have faced but I...” She laughed nervously, her face still pale. “I’m making quite a mess of this.” 

“No, it’s... I think I understand what you’re saying,” Nat said slowly, flummoxed as to how to respond. “I mean, obviously with no disrespect to you whatsoever, I’d consider our experiences to be extraordinarily different, but I... I appreciate what you’re trying to say, and I’m immensely grateful for everything you’ve done for me.”

“Of course, of course,” Miranda said, nodding too quickly. She was flustered, and in a way it was somewhat endearing to see the otherwise unflappable Miranda Lawson stumbling awkwardly through a conversation she was clearly out of her depth in. “Shepard... Nat, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean that in any way my situation was at all comparable to yours, that was really thoughtless of me.”

“It’s okay, it’s really okay.”

They looked at each other for a moment, and then burst into awkward giggles at the same time. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Nat said, waving a hand vaguely in her direction. “I didn’t mean to-”

“No, I’m sorry,” Miranda said, looking slightly more relaxed than she had a moment ago. “That was a really awful explanation, and I owe you so much more than that. It wasn’t anything insidious on our part at all, I promise you that.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t,” Nat said, twirling the end of her hair around her fingertips. “Or, okay, I’m sure it wasn’t on _your_ part- I’ll reserve my judgement regarding The Illusive Man.”

“He’s really not so bad,” Miranda said. “I know he puts a lot of effort into the persona, but-”

“But he is still responsible in part for the trauma I endured on Akuze,” Nat said pointedly.

Miranda winced. “I can’t excuse or condone that,” she admitted. “I really _am_ making a mess of this, aren’t I?” 

Nat pulled her legs up onto the chair, tucking her feet beneath her. “It’s not unsalvageable,” she said. “You’ll just have to be incredibly charming and witty.”

“Normally I’d consider myself to be at an advantage, if that was all it took, but I appear to have misplaced not only my charm, but my common sense as well.”

“Are you saying I leave you befuddled, Miranda?” Nat asked teasingly, her heart doing a little dance at prospect. 

Miranda gave her a dry look, one that seemed to say ‘ _do I even have to answer that?_ ’ “You’ve a commanding presence, _commander_ ,” she said, eyes twinkling mischievously. 

Nat groaned. “That was such a _lame_ answer,” she said. 

“Be kind- I’ve only had a few years to hone my wit compared to the rest of you.”

“Painful childhood misery buds,” Nat said consolingly, hand over her heart as she nodded knowledgeably. 

“Indeed,” Miranda said, her unhappy twist to her lips. “Can I get you another drink at all?”

Nat shook her head. “I’m fine, but if you need a drink please don’t hesitate on my behalf.”

Miranda sighed and settled back heavily in the chair. “No, it’s alright, I just was... looking for a distraction, but I’m fine.” She rubbed at her temple as if a headache was bothering her. “You were asking a serious question and I derailed the conversation.” 

She felt her stomach flip flop again. “Yes, of course,” Nat said, her awkwardness returning ten fold.

“You wanted to know how I knew? Or why?”

Nat could feel her cheeks heating again. “Both. Either. Yes please.”

“Alright,” Miranda said slowly, as if she was considering her words carefully. “Well I suppose I can try not to make an ass of myself this time.”

She sat forward, elbows on her knees. “By the time of your death, it wasn’t precisely a secret,” Miranda said. “Quietly, I was surprised you hadn’t acted on it already. The reports I read seemed to indicate you weren’t precisely happy.”

“I wasn’t,” she said honestly. 

Miranda looked at her quizzically. “Forgive me if this is too intrusive, but why hadn’t you...?”

“Well, you know, there was that whole ‘ _ward of the state_ ’ thing,” she said, twisting her fingers together anxiously. “And soldiers don’t exactly make a lot of money. I mean, I knew who I was and even if I couldn’t afford a full transition I could... make do, I guess.”

“But the health care provided to soldiers of the Alliance- you never wanted to take advantage of that?”

Nat shifted uncomfortably. “It’s... hard to explain- yes? I really, _desperately_ , wanted to but I...” She swallowed down the lump in her throat, feeling tears building in her eyes. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

“It’s alright, Shepard,” Miranda said gently, concern in her voice. “I don’t want to distress you like this.”

Nat sniffed, and rubbed at her eyes as if that would stop the tears. “It was like, I don’t know, like I owed the Alliance some mileage? Or Anderson, at least. He took a big chance on me, taking me off the streets, and I felt like I needed to prove my value to them- him, I mean.”

“You don’t ever need to put your life at risk or compromise your happiness just in the hope that someone will respect you, Nat,” Miranda said instantly, her expression serious. “You _are_ worthy of respect, and you _are_ valuable, just because you’re you- you don’t need someone to measure you.”

“That’s probably something that eighteen year old me desperately needed to hear,” she said, smiling wearily. “But as it was, I was a grubby, angry, malnourished little shit with intense self esteem issues and a lot of misplaced rage- I was lucky Anderson even looked twice at me.” 

“I think he knew he was onto a good thing,” Miranda said, winking at her. “And we can all be immensely grateful for his excellent character judgement.”

That wink, and the smile that accompanied it, made her glad she was seated- she was certain her knees would have given way if she’d been standing. She hadn’t realised she was the swooning type, but then, she hadn’t realised that women like Miranda Lawson existed either. 

Beautiful but broken, bold and unbowed. 

It took her a moment to realise Miranda had been speaking again, lost in her little daydreams as she was. She blushed and sat up straighter. “I’m sorry, my thoughts were elsewhere- could you repeat that?”

Miranda smiled. “Certainly- I was simply curious as to why you thought you... well, essentially why you thought you had to delay your transition?”

“Well, it felt a little too much like taking advantage to do it while I was still a cadet,” she said nervously, back to toying with her hair to soothe her nerves. “Like I said, I had some misguided notion that I had to prove my worth to the Alliance before asking for something so significant in return.”

“But this was your mental health at risk,” Miranda said. “The very basis of who you were-”

“Yes, I’m aware of that,” Nat snapped, her voice sharper than she intended. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “I apologise, that was uncalled for.”

“No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have interrupted,” Miranda said, bowing her head apologetically. “Please, continue, that was inappropriate of me.”

Nat took another deep breath, willing herself fiercely towards calm. “Thank you. It just didn’t feel right to apply for medical assistance when I was still so early into my cadetship, and then when I was selected for the N7 program, well... that didn’t really allow for a lot of margin for error, and I didn’t want to ruin my chances by trying to attempt the transition at the same time.

“Then there was Akuze, and...” She faltered, the words struggling to emerge. “I needed a lot of mental energy just to exist, after that.”

“Understandably so,” Miranda said quietly. 

She breathed out shakily. “Which more or less brings us to the last few years- Anderson picked me up as his XO and I felt a little more comfortable making changes, but it just never felt... like I had the right, I suppose? That sounds dreadful, but I’m not sure that I have a better way to describe how it felt.”

“I imagine it can’t have been easy being a Spectre and being expected to present a certain standard towards the other species.”

“Actually, having a mixed species crew made it a whole lot easier- I found during my N7 training just how accepting the turians are when you ask them to use different pronouns. Aliens really do have a very different grasp of gender than what humanity does, and in general none of them even blinked an eyelid when I corrected them.” She paused. “Well, those who had eyelids didn’t blink at it, I’m just going to assume the others wouldn't have blinked even if they could.”

Something happened then- the last thing she was expecting, actually. Miranda _giggled_.

Nat let out a startled noise as Miranda blushed. “Was that- did you just _giggle?_ ”

“You say that like you didn’t think it was possible.”

“Well, I just- well I suppose there’s a first for everything,” Nat said, flummoxing about awkwardly for words. 

Miranda hesitated, and there was something almost shy in her expression as she sat forward. “I was wondering,” she began slowly, “and you absolutely have a right to say no, but... would you mind if I played with your hair?”

Nat couldn’t help herself- she went bright red. She reached up instinctively to her head. “My hair?” she repeated dumbly, nervously toying with the ponytail yet again.

Miranda nodded. “I, ah, used to brush it for you, once it’d grown out again, and I even braided it when it got longer.” There was colour in her cheeks too, and she laughed awkwardly. “It wasn’t right, just leaving you lying there and letting your hair grow matted, so I made sure it was always... nice, I guess.”

The confession had the opposite effect to what Miranda had probably been intending- Nat felt tears pricking at her eyes, and ducked her head quickly to dash them away with the back of her hand. 

“Nat?” She heard the chair move and a moment later Miranda was crouching beside her. “Oh, bloody hell, Nat I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

Nat waved her hand awkwardly at her, trying to reassure her while she gulped down the whimpers that were trying to escape. “I-I’m fine,” she stammered, hiccuping on the tears. “I j-just never had someone c-care that much about me? It’s a small thing but it’s really... it means a lot to me”

Miranda’s relief was palpable. “Oh, Nat,” she said softly, her hand coming to rest over her forearm. She knew it was meant as a comforting gesture, but Nat couldn’t help the little flutter of heat in her belly at the touch. “You deserve so much more than that. You deserve such love and support, and I’m so sorry that you hadn’t really found it in your life.”

She sniffled. “I... I would really like it if you played with my hair,” she admittedly hesitantly. “If- if you’d still like to.”

“Of course!” Miranda said, her smile enough to warm Nat’s face a few degrees again. She tried not to tense as Miranda walked behind her, tried to relax and remind herself that she didn’t have to worry about her pausing awkwardly when she noticed her too broad shoulders. She was different now, her shape much more comfortable, and Miranda herself was responsible for that. 

She had nothing to fear from Miranda, no need to doubt that her interest and offer of friendship- or more?- wasn’t genuine.

Miranda’s fingers were tentative at first, her movements extremely careful as she pulled free the tie that was holding Nat’s hair back in the ponytail. Nat shivered as Miranda gently combed her fingers through the length, easing away the knots that had accumulated throughout the day. 

Nat felt herself all but melt under her ministrations, her touch dancing teasingly between soothing and sensual. There was a constant shiver playing down her spine, and when Miranda laughed softly at the little sounds she was letting out she wanted to sink into the floor in embarrassment. 

“I take it you’re enjoying yourself?” Miranda asked teasingly. 

She groaned, eyes closed. “Can we make this a regular part of your duties? Daily updates on mission status accompanied by head rubs?”

“I’m sure we can negotiate something.”

Nat smiled to herself, zoning out as Miranda skillfully wove her hair into a french braid. “You have such beautiful hair,” Miranda said, her voice strangely wistful.

“Well, aren’t you the one responsible for that?” Nat asked, laughing.

She could hear the smile in Miranda’s voice. “A craftsman can only work with the materials they’re given- I can hardly take credit for what nature blessed you with.”

Nat allowed herself to drift into a euphoric state of lazy bliss as Miranda’s fingers continued to work their magic. “Tell me about it.”

“About what? The Lazarus Project? I thought you didn’t want to know.”

“Well, consider my curiosity piqued now. Was it... difficult, trying to...?” 

“Trying to attempt the reassignment while rebuilding you? Not really- if anything, it was a little easier than most of the surgical options we have available at the moment, because, well... there wasn’t really that much to work with, so it was almost like starting from scratch.”

Nat winced a little at the imagery that conjured. 

“I mean, we’ve come a long way in the last forty years, but gender reassignment surgery is still major surgery, and the human body does still need time to recover from that sort of procedure, regardless of how good our medicine is. The state you were in when you came to me, it was almost like-”

“Actually, I’m certain I really don’t need the details on that part of the proceedings,” Nat said quickly, her stomach feeling queasy. 

“Of course. I apologise.” Miranda stepped back, her hands leaving Nat’s head. She felt strangely bereft at the loss of her touch. “There, all done. I’ll just fetch a mirror, shall I?”

Nat ran her hand over her hair as Miranda headed into the bathroom, her fingers tracing over the smooth bumps of the braid. Something about it, about the care Miranda had taken with it, made her stomach quiver as if full of butterflies. 

It was a small gesture, after all, but it was deeply touching. 

Miranda returned a moment later, a smile on her face and a mirror in hand. “Here,” she said, handing her the glass. “Do you like it? I’ll admit, I’ve not had a lot of practice, so you don’t have to keep it in.”

Nat felt her breath catch in her chest as she held up the mirror and inspected the face staring back at her. Her hair was pulled back elegantly, a few stray wisps still dancing around her forehead. It wasn’t a perfect face, by any means- there was still a few stubborn scars that she’d collected in the last few months, a nose that seemed a little too squishy and wide, a slightly crooked smile... but it was _her_ face. 

And Miranda had done this for her, fought tooth and nail to bring her back from beyond death and to see to it that she had a chance for happiness that she hadn’t ever been able to take for herself. 

She stood slowly, setting the mirror down on the side table and turning shyly towards Miranda. When she reached out and took her hands in hers, she glanced up to see if her advances were unappreciated. But Miranda was smiling, colour in her cheeks, and there was a giddy sort of girlishness sparkling in her eyes. 

“It’s perfect,” she said quietly. “I couldn’t have asked for anything better.”

Miranda’s tongue darted out quickly to wet her lips. “Nat,” she said hesitantly, her fingers squeezing hers for a moment. “May I... kiss you?”

She felt her pulse quicken. “I- I would really like that,” she stammered, feeling her face grow warm. 

Miranda leaned in slowly, obviously giving her plenty of opportunity to change her mind should she need the space; Nat couldn’t help herself, and lunged the rest of the distance, smooshing her lips against Miranda’s in what was perhaps the most undignified kiss ever experienced in human history. 

Miranda, bless her, didn’t recoil; she chuckled, the sound husky enough to send a shiver over Nat’s skin, and gently placed her hand on her cheek. With the slightest hint of pressure, she guided her to a more comfortable angle, her lips soft and encouraging while her fingers stroked softly over her neck. 

It was swoon worthy; worthy of an old movie, really.

When Miranda pulled away, she was grinning from ear to ear, and she laughed once at the dazed look on Nat’s face. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Nat,” she said softly.

Miranda’s smile was enough to make her feel like she could charge through the Omega-4 relay single handed, powered by the strength that one moment of happiness lent her. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Miranda.”


End file.
